We don't own Bones, we just play in it.
It was all Martha's fault. Last night was her birthday, and she just had to try the authentic Mexican restaurant down the street. Ned didn't like Mexican, and he could tell this morning, puking twice before leaving for work. He wanted to call in sick, but he was the only one on duty that day. Such is the life of an underpaid port inspector. The ship heading out was going to Ghana, just your average charity stuff. Food, medicine, clothing, toys for the kids, easy shipment, just check to see all the crates were there, sign the manifest, and go home. But not even something this simple could stand in the way of El Pesadilla De Los Turistas. Poor Ned bolted for the dock, but it was too late. Ned emptied the contents of his stomach on one of the crates heading for Ghana. Just brilliant, now he had to check to make sure the contents of the crate weren't damaged. Regulation said for items to be packaged in waterproof containers, but most charities ducked that rule. Normally it wasn't an issue, but with nachos leaking into the crate, today Ned hoped the charity stuck by the rules.
Ned grabbed a crowbar, and pried off the top of the crate. A bag of rice was on top, in the proper regulation package. My lucky day he thought. Ned moved that bag to one side, and checked underneath, more rice, still packaged right, but there was something dark and stringy underneath. Smuggling happened, but rarely in a charity shipment. Ned moved the bag of rice, to find a human head facing him, gaunt and pasty. Ned discovered that his stomach had one more puke left.
Commercial break!
Next chapter: The team goes to the site.